


The Distraction of His Madding Fever

by rayvyn2k



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, F/M, M/M, Non-Con that becomes Consensual, Porn With Plot, Some Domination and Submission, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:43:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayvyn2k/pseuds/rayvyn2k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape has finally found a way to get back at that filthy werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Distraction of His Madding Fever

**Author's Note:**

> ~~This story is the result of a challenge/meme thing that snegurochka_lee posted on her Live Journal on my birthday…August 17, 2005. It was: **Give me any HP pairing, and I'll write you a one line story.** Now, she really doesn’t like the SS/HG pairing, so naturally, that is the one I gave her. She paid me back by writing a sentence so provocative, it unleashed a rabid plot bunny in my brain. The result is this story. The bolded sentence in the story is hers—everything else is mine. Except the characters, which belong to JK Rowling. I just love to play with them.~~ 
> 
> _Heartfelt thanks and slow wet snogs to my betas, dora_the_nymph and islandsmoke. Their guidance and suggestions made this a story rather than just my usual smut. You both were invaluable to me._  
> 
> _This is set vaguely during the Order of the Phoenix._

Snape enters Borgin and Burkes and looks around. Thankfully, the owner is busy with another customer. The shopkeeper’s fawning “assistance” always gets on his nerves. Snape's visits to the shop are always more in the 'on the lookout for a gem among the stones' type rather than looking for any specific dark item. If he wants specificity, he can always consult with Lucius. Snape glances over the various displays, his eyes sliding from one to the other idly. When he spots the dusty mahogany box with its lid propped open to display the blue-green coils of rope within, he recognizes the magical fetters immediately. He figures they will come in handy for one side or the other, so he buys them from the shopkeeper after he negotiates the price down (“I hope you know you’re robbing me blind, Professor”). Snape hides the box in the secret room at his house at Spinner’s End. It gathers dust during the furor over the Dark Lord’s return. 

It is when the Order is revived, and they begin meeting at the Black house, that Snape first notices Nymphadora Tonks. He watches her surreptitiously during every meeting. Her heart-shaped face boasts large dark eyes (most of the time), a button (when she isn’t changing it for the amusement of others) nose with a smattering of freckles and lovely, full lips. He finds her clumsiness and her unremitting effervescent perkiness charming. Her offbeat humor is a balm for his nerves. Black will never knew how often a quip from Nymphadora saves him from being hexed. Snape thinks her usual uniform of a tee shirt, jeans and trainers suits her. He especially appreciates the tee shirts, which are tight enough to show off her pert breasts, and the low-slung jeans which accentuate her curvy hips. Snape leaves the Order meetings with an erection more often than not when she is in attendance. He only ever refers to her by 'Nymphadora', since he finds 'Tonks' to be too harsh a moniker for such a scintillating beauty. 

After weeks of torturous indecision, Snape finally works up the courage to ask her out, and he goes looking for her. After searching the house, he finally looks into the library through the partially open door and finds her--enthusiastically snogging Lupin. 

A white-hot conflagration of jealousy, resentment and anger sears Snape's very soul as he backs away from the door. He can't believe it's happened _again._ One of the so-called Marauders, his hated rivals, has moved in on a woman he desires. He cannot bear it, not again. 

From that day forward, he puts all his skills as a double-agent to use in order to obsessively, yet unobtrusively, watch the couple. Each Order meeting becomes an exercise in torment. Snape notices every secret smile, every tousled head, and every red, swollen lip. Lupin and Nymphadora think they are being discrete, but it is obvious to Snape that they are shagging like bunnies. How can the other Order members not see what is happening under their very noses? 

Suddenly, the painful answer comes to him. _They do...and they approve_. Snape can’t stop his lip from curling in loathing. Why does it have to be that damned werewolf? When he thinks of Lupin and Nymphadora together, Snape’s stomach churns. _It can not be allowed to continue_. 

One night, after he departs the latest Order meeting, he remembers the _Inhibitum Vincului_.

A mad plan seems to spring into his mind fully formed. Snape bides his time, waiting for an opportunity to act. And then finally, after weeks of waiting, his patience is rewarded. Dumbledore sends Lupin off on a mission of werewolf diplomacy. The following week, Nymphadora is given the task of visiting Russia undercover, to gauge the disposition of the Russian Wizarding community. She is to leave before the week is out and remain for an undetermined amount of time which will not be less than a month. She is told to expect to remain for much longer. 

It is the perfect time to act.

Snape dons his cloak and leaves the meeting the moment it ends, as is his habit. He waits outside of the Order Headquarters, blending into the darkness of a broken streetlight at the end of the walkway from the worn stone steps, with his hands tucked inside of his robes. After an hour the Order members began to leave—singly or in pairs. Then, finally…the opportunity for which he has so patiently awaited arrives. 

Nymphadora comes out of the door and skips down the steps unaccompanied. 

He withdraws his hand from his robes, startling her. She whips her wand out of her back pocket before recognition dawns.

“Hi there, Snape!” she grins as she tucks her wand away once more. “Cast any Unforgivables lately?”

He allows his mouth to quirk up on one side as he closes the distance between them in a few steps. 

“I want to show you something,” he says, and he raises his wand. 

Her face is curious. “What is—”

“ _Stupefy_.”

Snape catches her as she falls, lifts her into his arms and immediately Apparates to Spinner’s End. He carries her inside and takes a moment to set the wards over the house. After he is satisfied, he carries her up the secret stairway. He enters the Unplottable room which he often uses as a sanctuary. From both sides. The dark man drops her on the four-poster bed. He mutters _‘incendio’_ , and the fireplace springs to life. Next he takes her wand downstairs and places it in his safe. He removes his robes and frock coat with a thought before he returns to the secret bedroom. 

Snape begins to methodically remove her clothes without using magic. He has waited so long for this moment, he intends to enjoy every moment.

He starts with her trainers. He slips them off of her feet, along with her socks, and sets them together on the corner of the bed. Next, he unbuckles her belt, pulls it out of the loops on her jeans, winds it around his hand and lays it on top of the shoes. He unbuttons her jeans, slides them over her round bottom and reveals her lacy black knickers. His breath hitches. The thought that she must have worn them for _him_ causes another saber-slash of jealousy to rend Snape to his core. He shakes himself, folds the jeans neatly and adds them to the pile. Snape peels off her “Weird Sisters” tee shirt and his mouth goes dry. Her bra matches her knickers and displays her breasts to excellent advantage. The tee shirt joins the rest of the clothing. He hooks his thumbs into the elastic of her panties and removes them, revealing a neatly trimmed thatch of pink, curly hair at the apex of her thighs. Lastly, he lifts her slightly to unhook and slide her bra from her body, freeing her pink-tipped breasts. 

_Lovely_.

He dispatches the pile of clothing to the wardrobe at the other side of the room with a thought. 

Snape retrieves the box containing the _Inhibitum Vincului_. There are five individual pieces. The first he secures around her neck. The magical binding convulses until it is secure. After Snape ensures that it isn't too snug, he uses the remaining pieces of magical cordage to bind her wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed. He casts an Inperturbable spell on the room, moves a chair to the side of the bed, and seats himself.

“ _Ennervate_.”

Nymphadora opens her eyes. Snape watchs as realization dawns that she is a prisoner. She is not upset, not at first, as she simply scrunches up her face and tries to morph so she can escape her bonds. Her movements become more frantic when she realizes that she doesn't have the power to morph at will anymore. The magical restraints see to that. She looks wildly around the room until her eyes land on him. Her face is flushed with anger.

“Snape! What the hell are you playing at? Release me at once!”

Snape feasts on her body with his eyes. His gaze stops at her breasts and he licks his lips with the tip of his tongue for a moment before he continues his slow inspection of her. He leisurely examines every inch of her body all the way down to her ruby-red toenails, then makes his slow way back until he meets her angry eyes once more. 

“After all the trouble I have taken to bring you here? No, Nymphadora,” he says. “you aren't going anywhere--at least for now. Now that I have you here, I believe I shall be making use of your abilities for my own—err— _satisfaction_.” Snape’s eyes glitter at her as her struggles against the bonds begin anew. 

“What do you think of the restraints? I am considering bringing them to the Order’s attention for use against both Animagi and Metamorphmagi. After I have fully tested them, of course. They are called _Inhibitum Vincului_. When bound by them, a shape-shifter’s ability to change is restricted. In fact,” he continues, “those ropes act as both a magic damper while simultaneously making it impossible for a shape-shifter to transform without assistance.” Snape smiles then and is pleased to see fear in her eyes. “Do you want to know the best feature of my magical restraints, Nymphadora? When a Metamorphmagus is bound by them, she can be forced to assume any form—any form at all—that her captor may desire. For one hour.” 

“You motherfucker.” The horror in her voice is plain. “Snape, I thought we were friends. Why are you doing this to me?”

He rises, and without breaking eye contact with her, he reaches out a hand and caresses her breast until the nipple hardens. 

“I have my reasons,” he murmurs. Snape removes his hand from her breast, and conjures a soft blanket which drapes itself over her. He turns and strides to the door. “Sleep tight, Nymphadora. I will see you tomorrow.”

The next morning he unties her and takes her to the bathroom. He waits in the open doorway until she finishes. She makes a break for the door, but trips adorably on the throw rug, and lands on the floor. Snape captures her and lifts her over his shoulder. As he carries her back to the bed, she kicks at him and pounds her fists on his back. A couple of hard slaps on her naked bottom stops that nonsense. He is forced to _Stupefy_ her again in order to re-tie her to the bed. Her angry glare after he revives her nearly brings a smile to his face. Snape offers her food and water which she refuses. He shrugs. If she continues to reject sustenance, there is a potion he can brew which will provide all of the nutrients her body needs. Snape ensures that the bonds are secure before he'd leaves to go to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he returns at the end of that first day, she accepts the water Snape offers and the opportunity to use the bathroom again. He still has to knock her out in order to bind her back to the bed, but he accepts that as part of the routine of keeping her prisoner. He refuses to cast ‘ _Imperio_ ’. He doesn’t want to damage her mind.

After Snape revives her, he strips to his boxers and then picks up his wand. She watches him in wide-eyed silence. He waves it over her with a peculiar flick and twirl, murmurs an incantation, and then stands back to watch. 

Nymphadora’s eyes widen as her body begins to morph against her will. Her voice quavers as she asks, “Snape—what the hell are you doing? Have you lost your ever-loving mind?” 

He watches as her form settles into the unmistakable shape of Hermione Granger. A lecherous smirk he cannot restrain appears on his face as his cock hardens. Having the insufferable know-it-all naked and restrained on a bed before him has been a fantasy with which Snape has indulged himself occasionally in the darkness of the night. Now, he intends to live it. He murmurs the contraceptive charm and secures his wand in the wardrobe. He is tempted to just fall on her and take her. And then, when he notices Nymphadora's loathing shining from 'Hermione's' eyes, he decides on a different strategy. Without breaking eye contact, he moves to the end of the bed and climbs in—right between her outstretched legs. 

“I assure you, I am in full possession of my reason. I intend to indulge a few of my fantasies—which you are uniquely qualified to gratify, Nymphadora. However, I also intend to satisfy you, too. In fact, I swear to you right now. I will not fuck you unless you beg me to.”

“You might as well give up now, because that will not happen,” she snaps. 

Snape smiles as he rises to his knees, bends over her, takes a nipple into his mouth and begins to suckle. She gasps and tries to move away, but the restraints hold her firmly in place. 

Her eyes fill and her voice is a harsh whisper when she pleads, “Please don’t do this, Snape. Please.”

A part of his mind asks him what the HELL he thinks he's doing and he almost stops. Then he remembers the scene in the library. Rage and jealous grief drive away his conscience and Snape continues to suckle one breast as he caresses the other. He circles the aureola with his thumb until the nipple hardens. Snape drags his teeth gently over the sensitive bud in his mouth, drawing it out with a ‘pop’. He trails his tongue across her skin until he reaches the other side. He teases the taut peak with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth as he pinches the other. 

He lets go of the nipple, rises to his knees, and looks down on the woman who is wearing Hermione Granger’s body. Her eyes are closed and she is breathing hard. Her skin is flushed and her nipples are standing high and firm atop her swollen breasts. She does not fight against the restraints any longer and he smells the musky scent of her rising arousal. Snape reaches down and caresses both her breasts, pinching both nipples hard at the same time, which elicits a soft gasp and an involuntary arch of her back. He smiles and lowers his mouth to taste her heated flesh as he kisses his way down her stomach which trembles beneath his lips. When he reaches her belly button, he pauses and laves it with his tongue before he continues his journey downward. 

When Snape reaches her pubic mound, he inhales deeply. He enjoys the scent of salt and sweat and woman. He positions himself more comfortably between her thighs and kisses her nether lips gently. He rains butterfly kisses all over those lips and her upper thighs. He only occasionally touches her clit, which is glistening and standing at attention. Soon, Nymphadora as Hermione is gasping and squirming—trying to rub that bundle of nerves against his nose or his chin—anything to ease the pressure which he has carefully built. He spreads her open with his fingers, delighted to observe that she is soaking wet. He blows gently on her clit. She cries out in exasperation. 

“Did you want something, Miss Granger?” he asks.

“Snape, you fucking tease,” she gasps. “I want you to—to—get me off…”

He deals her a stinging smack on the inside of her thigh and she yelps.

“I told you I am indulging a fantasy. Miss Granger, you will address me as ‘Professor Snape’ or ‘Sir’ when you speak to me.” He delivers another slap to her other leg. “Do you understand?”

“Ow, okay—whatever you say, _Professor Snape…”_

“That’s better." He clears his throat. "Now tell me Miss Granger, you little slut, what do you want from me?” He is enjoying this. His cock is so hard right now—harder than it’s been in ages. It feels so damned good…but he will not gratify himself yet. No—he is disciplined enough to wait until she begs him for it.

“I want your tongue…Prof-professor Snape…gods…please…sir, may I have your tongue?”

His cock twitches and he ignores it.

“Since you have asked so nicely…”

Snape bends and dips his tongue into her, tasting her juices while still avoiding her clit. She groans in frustration and arches her hips to try to bring it into contact with something…anything. He teases her with his tongue as he slides two fingers inside the tight opening. The recreation is perfect as Hermione Granger is still certainly a virgin. Snape relishes the groan of pleasure Nymphadora cannot restrain as he moves them in and out. Only then does he finally assault her clit with his tongue, licking and sucking, faster—harder. She arches her hips and her breathing is hard and fast.

“Oh, gods, Snape—please don’t stop…”

He stops instantly. “What did you call me?” 

“Sorry, sorry, I forgot! Professor! Professor Snape! Sir! Please…Sir! Don't stop, please.”

“Much better.” He bends and teases her clit some more. He slides his fingers out of her pussy and uses her juices to lubricate the tight rosebud of her anus. Snape slips his long middle finger in as he simultaneously sucks hard on her clit—sending her over the edge and into a shuddering orgasm.

When “Please, please fuck me now!” is torn from her, almost against her will, he smiles in triumph. He raises himself to his knees, lowers his boxers and frees his aching cock. He spreads her legs wider and buries himself balls deep with a slow, steady stroke. Her virginal cunt is so hot and wet and unbelievably tight. Snape starts pumping his hips, his speed increasing until he is driving in and out hard and fast. She is raising her hips to meet him, encouraging him with her guttural voice, _yesyesYES Merlindon’tstop YESyes itfeelssogood HARDER faster yesyesYES!_ The woman beneath him shatters into orgasm again, her pussy spasming around his cock. Snape feels his balls tighten. He slams his cock home as he comes explosively hard. His hips spasm until it is over. His arms shake as he holds himself up, eyes closed, breathing hard.

After he catches his breath, he opens his eyes.

**Snape loves the way Hermione’s breasts swell under his touch, the way she throws her head back and calls his name, the way she parts her legs so willingly for him, and most of all—the way her pink hair returns at the end of the hour and as she pulls at her restraints he hides a grin, knowing that he’s finally found a way to get back at that filthy werewolf.**

She glares at him as he summons his wand and casts a cleansing charm. 

“You’re a fucking arsehole, Snape.” 

“Granted. But not such an arsehole that you didn’t enjoy it, Nymphadora." He dresses with a thought. He is already considering the next form he’ll make her take. He feels his prick stir, but knows he has to wait—and recover first. 

“Do you need to use the bathroom? No? Then, get some rest,” he tells her. “You’re going to need it.”

“Go to hell.”

He closes the door and descends to his sitting room. He summons a bottle of Elf wine and a glass. He starts a fire and settles himself into his comfortable leather armchair and then he pours the wine.

Snape sips his wine in front of the fire and smiles. He conjures a sandwich and devours it along with another glass of wine. After he finishes, he clears the mess away with a wave of his wand. He picks up a book and begins to read. He wants to be fully recovered before he indulges his next fantasy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snape awakes with a start. The book is on his chest and the pale light of dawn is outside the windows. He curses under his breath, marks his place in the book and puts it aside. He gets to his feet and stretches the kinks out of his back and neck. He hates it when he falls asleep in the chair. He is especially aggravated at himself since he meant to pay Nymphadora another visit last night. He scowls and makes his way up the staircase and into the hidden room. 

The sound of the door opening awakens her and she glares at him.

“Thanks a lot, Snape. Just leave me here with no clothes, no blanket—I’m fucking freezing.”

He experiences a moment of guilt as he casts his eyes over her. Her nipples are erect and hard and her skin is covered in gooseflesh. Her lips are tinged with a hint of blue. Snape casts a warming charm and then he waves his hand at the fireplace, and a crackling fire appears. He summons a wool blanket from the wardrobe. As he stands next to the bed and looks at her, it dawns on him how enticing she is and he has a brief thought that he should use this time with her to persuade her that he is a more than adequate replacement for Lupin. 

"Take a fucking picture, it'll last longer."

Snape's lips twitch. He can’t resist leaning over and taking first one nipple, then the other into his mouth and sucking on them until they are warm once more. He restrains a smile when she arches her back, pushing her breasts closer to his face. He runs a hand down the cold skin of her belly to find her pussy warm and wet. He slides a finger inside and she gasps. He finger fucks her languidly as he continues to nibble her breasts. Before long, her body is warm and she is arching her hips and groaning. 

“Oh—you bastard, you prick, you fucking bastard…oh…” 

Snape removes his fingers from her cunt and teases her clit. _Bastard, is it? Very well..._ He brings her to the brink of orgasm again and again until she’s writhing on the bed as much as the restraints will allow.

“Snape—Professor Snape—Sir—please, let me come, oh please…” her voice trails off into an agonized moan.

Snape withdraws his hands and his lips from her body. He brings his fingers up to his nose and inhales deeply before he puts them into his mouth and sucks her juices from them. 

“Now that you are sufficiently warmed, I must get to Hogwarts. If you will use the bathroom, I will take you now.”

“Fuck you, Snape!” She snarls at him in frustration. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you will—later. Shall I take that to mean you do not wish to use the facilities before I leave for the day?”

“Of course I do!” 

Snape gets her to and from the bathroom with a minimum of argument. 

As he finishes tying her wrists behind her back, he asks, “Would you like some breakfast before I go?”

He enjoys watching her struggle with herself before she finally sighs in resignation and answers in a low voice, “Yes, please.”

Snape flicks his wand and a teapot, cup and saucer, toast and marmalade appear on the bedside table. He props her into a sitting position before he pours the tea. He adds the sugar and milk the way he knows she likes it. He spreads the marmalade, then offers her a bite. She accepts it, chews and swallows. He offers the cup—she sips without looking at him. He continues in this manner until the tea and the toast have been consumed. Snape clears everything away with another wave of his wand. He makes sure she is as comfortable, and unable to escape, as he can make her under the circumstances. He cannot resist caressing her breasts once more, pinching her nipples to hardness. He slips a finger into her and teases her clit. When she is once again fully aroused, he stops playing with her and covers her sensitive body with the blanket. He will leave her in a heightened state of sexual arousal. He smiles to himself as his cock jumps in anticipation.

“I will return this afternoon, Nymphadora, after my duties at Hogwarts are finished. We will pick up where I have left off.” He turns and walks toward the door.

“You’re just going to leave me like this?” 

Snape enjoys hearing the frustrated, aching need in her voice. “Do not worry, Nymphadora, you will not have very long to wait.” He starts out of the room, pauses and then leans his head back inside. "And for your information...my parents were married." He closes the door on her curses with a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snape spends the rest of the day as usual; intimidating the students, marking essays and patrolling the hallways. He refrains from issuing a detention to Longbottom, in spite of the idiot boy’s best efforts, which include another melted cauldron. He experiences a moment of disquiet when Hermione Granger brings her potion sample to him at the end of the class. He is grateful to be seated behind his desk when his cock springs to attention. After he dismisses the students, Snape makes his way to the Great Hall to put in an appearance at lunch. He endures the mindless chatter around him at the Head table while Occluding furiously. He is taking no chances.

Once the bell rings, signaling the beginning of the afternoon session, Snape finishes his tea and rises from his chair. He continues to Occlude as he advises the Headmaster blandly that he must be away on _business_ again, beginning now and most probably overnight. He asks to have another teacher cover for him. Dumbledore cannot agree fast enough, the manipulative old coot.

With his duty to the Slytherins taken care of, Snape strides to the Apparation point and disappears with a crack. 

He enters the house and sets his wards before he makes his way up the stairs. He opens the door and goes into the bedroom. She is awake and glaring at him from the bed. 

“Hello, Nymphadora.” He whips the blanket off of her and rakes his eyes over her body. “Warm enough?”

“Fuck you,” she replies. “I have to piss again. Do you know how hard it has been to hold in that damned tea all day?” 

“Look at it as an exercise in discipline,” he replies as he unties her.

He leads her to the bathroom and locks her inside. He has been planning this all day and he needs time to prepare for his next fantasy. He aligns a low backed, overstuffed armchair in front of the closet. He waves his wand and a mirror appears on the door. It is not a magical mirror, not for this purpose, merely an ordinary Muggle one. He removes his clothing and then he fetches Nymphadora from the bathroom. He positions her behind the chair. 

Snape summons the _Inhibitum Vincului_. "Will you stand still or must I Stupify you again?" He watches as she struggles with, then comes to accept, the fact that she has no choices. His eyes gleam when he sees her submit completely. He ties her ankles to the outside of the back legs of the chair. He presses on her back so that she bends at the hips. He adjusts the chair magically so that she is leaning over the padded back with her ass pointed out and her elbows resting on the seat cushion of the chair. He binds her arms together from her wrists to her elbows. When he finishes, he stands in front of the chair, points his wand at her, and performs the incantation which forces her to morph. As her new form stabilizes, his breathing quickens.

Oh, yes. He’s been longing to do this for a very long time.

Snape takes a long, slow look at the lithe young body before him. The hair is messy. The shoulders are broader than they appear in the school robes, probably from the Quidditch. The waist and hips are slender. He touches his top lip with the tip of his tongue. _Delightful._

He steps aside so that Nymphadora can see the reflection in the mirror. 

“Snape, you’re a sick fuck, do you know that?” Green eyes blaze at him.

He moves gracefully around her and deals the round, firm arse a stinging slap. “As Potter, you will address me as ‘Professor Snape’ or ‘Sir’ at all times, do you understand?”

“Yes, SIR.” Those green eyes are watering and there is a lovely red mark on the pale right buttock. 

“Tonight, Mr. Potter, I will be settling our account—I intend to be repaid for all of the years I have had to put up with your rule-breaking, ingredient thievery and your impudence.”

Snape moves behind the chair. He trails his fingers, with the lightest of touches, from Potter's smooth shoulders, down his sides, and around his body. He feels Potter’s stomach muscles tense. Snape takes Potter's rock hard cock in hand and his eyebrows rise in surprise. Impressive. He knows the details are accurate, but it doesn’t matter. He is pleased to find that Nymphadora is aroused already. He gives the smooth shaft a few hard pulls before he moves away. So very responsive. Oh yes, he is going to enjoy this—and so was Nymphadora.

The way he is positioned on the chair means that Potter’s body is open to Snape—his to do with as he pleases. 

Snape caresses the firm, round buttocks before dealing a sharp smack to the left side, eliciting an outraged squeal.

“Damn it, Snape—err, I mean—SIR…that hurt!”

Snape’s response is to grab him by the dark, messy hair, yank his head back and to growl into his ear. “That is just the beginning. Potter has had this coming for years. I expect you to remember who you are. Believe me, you do not want me to use my belt instead.” 

He lets go of Potter’s hair and begins to spank him. Snape deals sharp, stinging blows evenly to both sides of the firm behind. At first, Potter clenches his muscles and goes up onto his toes with every blow. Then comes the crying and the begging and trying to avoid the punishment. Snape revels in the sound of Potter's voice assuring him that he will never, EVER again break any rules or steal any potions ingredients if only Snape will please, PLEASE stop. 

Once the begging stops, it doesn't take long until Potter has relaxed and is pushing his arse toward the blows. He is moaning softly. Snape smiles in satisfaction. Such beautiful submission. He begins to stagger the both the intensity and the frequency of the blows. Sometimes he delivers them in quick succession, sometimes he waits for a minute or more and simply strokes the heated flesh; allowing the nervous anticipation to build before he unleashes the next strike. He makes Potter want it, need it, beg for it. The moans become guttural. Snape deals one last sharp slap to each side and then runs his hands across the bruised, reddened globes. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Snape whispers. 

“Yes.” The voice is so low, it is barely audible.

Snape smiles. He spreads Potter’s cheeks and starts to press his erection into the tight bud. Potter stiffens and flinches away.

“Please don’t do this, Sna—Professor.” There is real fear in the plea.

Snape pauses and rubs the tortured buttocks, reminding himself that this body before him only looks like Potter. And he has made a vow to give this body pleasure. 

He allows a few moments to pass before he pulls the slender hips back and spreads the flaming ass cheeks once more. He murmurs a lubrication spell and then slides a long finger inside Potter's ass and at the same time he reaches around with his other hand and strokes Potter’s flagging cock. The twin sensations tear an impassioned groan from his prisoner and the cock in his hand springs back to life once again. Snape moves his finger in and out in the same rhythm as he fists the cock in his hand. He is rewarded with another low moan and the slippery feel of pre-come on his hand. Snape’s lip curls as he adds a second finger to Potter’s arse, sliding deep, in then out, scissoring his fingers, stretching the tight opening. Before he withdraws his fingers, Snape curves them up until he finds the prostate. He brushes it. Oh yes, Potter will want it. Want it enough to beg for it. 

“Oh, gods…” Potter is lost in sensation and is reflexively pumping his hips, first fucking Snape’s fist with his slick cock and then pushing back onto the fingers in his ass. "Please sir, please, I want...more."

Snape removes his fingers, grabs Potter by the hair and pulls his head up. 

“Open your eyes,” he orders. The green eyes open. Snape is pleased to see, as their gazes meet in the mirror, that those green eyes are glazed with desire. “I am going give you what you've asked so nicely for. I want you to watch.” Snape slows his strokes on Potter’s cock, drawing them out…keeping him at the edge but not taking him over. “Keep those eyes open. I am going to fuck you until you come and you are going to watch yourself come with my cock in your ass.”

Snape releases Potter’s prick and spreads the cheeks of his abused arse once more. He fists his rock-hard dick, lubricating it before he positions himself. He glances into the mirror. Potter is watching, desire and fear fighting for dominance in his eyes.

Snape observes Potter’s reactions in the mirror as he pushes the head of his cock into the tight opening. There is a gasp, the green eyes widen and he tenses reflexively. 

Snape growls. “Relax.” He punctuates the word with a hard slap. “Otherwise, I will hurt you.” 

Snape grabs the slender hips. He pulls them back as he pushes in slowly. It is an exercise in restraint because the opening is so tight, and it feels so good and all he wants to do is slam in as hard and fast as he can. Which is what he would do if it were really Potter in this position before him. Snape knows it's not, and he has also made a vow that his prisoner will enjoy it. Snape intends to keep his word.

He is fully seated inside now, his balls resting beneath that lovely, red bottom, and he remains still, waiting, observing. Potter is breathing hard, almost gasping. His eyes are half-closed. Snape leans across his back, trails his hand along the quivering side, down and around until he grasps Potter’s still-hard cock once more. He strokes it until Potter moans and pumps his hips reflexively. Snape allows him to set the pace at first. Slowly, he takes control and slides his prick out to the head and then begins to pump his own hips—slowly at first, but harder with every stroke. Potter pistons back and forth spasmodically, shoving his cock into Snape’s fist and then his arse onto Snape’s cock. 

“You love the feel of my cock in your arse, don’t you?” Snape growls into his ear as he meets the fevered gaze in the mirror. Potter nods. “Oh, yes…you do. I knew you would, I told you I would make you want it…now—I want you to come for me…” 

Snape angles his cock to hit the prostate and Potter comes with a yell. Snape milks the spurting cock, coating it not to mention the back of the chair with semen. Then he rises and grabs the slim hips again with both hands so he can fuck in earnest, hard and fast—oh, Merlin it feels so good…

…with a final mighty thrust, he comes—and as his cock empties, Snape slams in again and again reflexively until he is spent. When it is over, he is draped across Potter's back. He gazes at their reflection once more. Potter is beneath him, hanging boneless over the chair, slick with sweat and panting. 

Snape pulls out and murmurs a cleansing charm. He puts on his boxers and when he turns, he sees that Nymphadora’s pink hair is back once more. And she is glaring at him. He arches an eyebrow at her. 

“You fucker.”

He smirks. “I told you that i would make you would like it. You just hate it that I was right. Face it, Nymphadora; you are unquestionably submissive. You love it when you have no say in the matter. When I take control. You can relax and enjoy yourself in a way that you never could before. You are also a sensualist. We are alike in that way.” 

“Look, if it’s all the same to you,” she retorts. “My arms and legs are killing me. Not to mention my ass. I would appreciate it if you will stop analyzing my sexual proclivities and untie me from this thing. I want to wash myself properly, too—if it's not too much trouble, _Master Snape_.”

Snape performs a sweeping bow which also hides his smile of pleasure at her use of the word 'master'. “No trouble at all. If madame will be patient for a moment.”

He ignores her shriek of protest as he makes his way to the bathroom and turns on the taps. He adds sweet-smelling bath suds of his own invention which foam up thickly. As the tub fills, he collects towels, a washcloth and shampoo and lays them next to the soap on the vanity nearby. He turns off the water, tests the temperature, and goes back into the bedroom. He meets her glare with a smirk.

Snape regretfully casts a healing charm on her beautiful red bottom before he unties her. He can't afford to leave any marks on her skin. He is careful to leave the collar on. She probably couldn't Apparate out of his house anyway, but Snape hasn't gotten where he is today by being careless. He indicates with another bow that she should precede him into the bathroom. When she reaches the door, she stops suddenly, turns and lays her hands against his chest. She looks into his eyes with an expression which can only be called a silent plea. He steels himself against it.

“Go on in,” he orders. Even though he knows that she is not versed in Leglimency, he is unsettled.

“May I have some privacy at least?”

Snape crosses his arms across his chest. 

“No. Do you want a bath, or not?” He asks. “It does not matter to me either way. I can use Scourify with the same results. If you choose to bathe, I will be in attendance.” 

She glares at him and then, she turns and steps into the bathtub. She settles down with a small groan as the hot water and suds cover her body. 

Snape summons a book, puts the lid down and seats himself on the toilet. He opens it and begins to read aloud.

_“What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,_  
 _Distilled from limbecks foul as hell within,_  
 _Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,_  
 _Still losing when I saw myself to win!_  
 _What wretched errors hath my heart committed,_  
 _Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!_  
 _How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted,_  
 _In the distraction of this madding fever!_  
 _O benefit of ill! now I find true_  
 _That better is by evil still made better;_  
 _And ruined love, when it is built anew,_  
 _Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater._  
 _So I return rebuked to my content,_  
 _And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent._ *” 

Snape closes the book, leans back and closes his eyes with a small sigh. Guilt flows over and through him. Leave it to a Muggle poet to point out the error of his ways. 

“I didn’t know you read Shakespeare.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he snaps irritably. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Nymphadora.” Snape rises and moves over to perch on the side of the tub. “Not that you ever bothered to find out.” He hates the bitterness he hears in his voice, but he can't stop speaking. "If only you had given me a chance before getting involved with... _him_..."

Snape snaps his mouth closed, turns, and reaches for the washcloth. He ignores her surprised expression as he dunks it into the water. He lifts one of her legs and slides the terry cloth up and down. When he finishes with the first leg, he reaches for the second and silently repeats the process. She continues to watch him speculatively and he continues to focus anywhere but her eyes. He finishes washing her arms and then signals for her to lean forward so he can do her back. He is given a small reprieve from her too-knowing eyes for a few moments. He uses the time to gather his scattered wits together. 

Once he is more in control of himself, Snape settles her back against the tub. Thankfully, she has closed her eyes. He dunks the washcloth again and covers his hand with it. He starts with her shoulder and moves it down and over first one breast, then the other. Her nipples rise under his ministrations. He trails the washcloth across her belly and then between her thighs. She spreads her legs and he cleans her thoroughly before moving up to trace lazy circles around her belly button and breasts once more. He chances a quick glance at her face and sees that her eyes are still closed and there is a small smile on her lips. 

“Slide forward a little and lean back.” Snape says softly. “I want to wash your hair.”

Nymphadora obeys silently. He notices that her breathing has quickened and her nipples are hard. Gods, she was beautifully submissive. If only he had more time. 

Snape shakes those traitorous thought from his head. He rinses the washcloth and then soaks it with water. He brings it to her head and then squeezes it into her hair. Once her hair is wet, he puts aside the washcloth and pours some shampoo into his hands. He rubs them together and starts working it into her scalp. Soon he is massaging her head. When she moans softly, he smiles. When he finishes, he lowers her with one hand behind her neck until the back of her head touches the water. He scoops up water with his other hand and rinses most of the shampoo from her hair. When he is finished, he pulls the plug and, as the water drains, he pulls her to her feet. Her large eyes watch him contemplatively as he turns the water on, tests the temperature and then he flips the switch for the shower. He vanishes his boxers and steps into the tub. He gives himself a quick scrub, from head to toe, and then he pulls her under the spray for a final rinse. Snape slides his hands over every part of her body, feeling her shiver beneath his touch. He finishes and turns off the water. He steps out of the tub, retrieves a towel, scrubs most of the water from his head, and then wraps it around his waist. He takes another and holds it open.

Nymphadora steps out of the tub and he enfolds her in the towel. He tucks the end between her breasts, takes another and rubs her head with it, drying her hair while making it stand on end. The side of his mouth quirks up at the sight of it. 

“Snape—I…” she begins. He shakes his head and silences her with a finger to her lips. Then he leads her back into the bedroom. Snape takes her into his arms and draws her close. He lowers his head and captures her lips in a tender kiss. Much to his surprise, she does not pull away. He explores her mouth leisurely with his tongue. He is elated when she slips her arms up and around his neck in order to pull him closer as she deepens the kiss. 

Snape's erection is unmistakable beneath the towel and it presses insistently against the softness of her body. He tries to pull back. She tightens her grip and breaks the kiss to look into his eyes. 

"What are you doing, Nymphadora?" He hates how hoarse and needy his voice sounds.

They are nose to nose and her lovely eyes are focused on his. "Before you Obliviate me--you do intend to Obliviate me, yes?"

"Of course. I cannot act as a double-agent in Azkaban, can I?"

"No." Her breath is warm against his lips. "Before you do, I have one request from you, Snape. I think I've earned it."

He looks deep into her eyes and again does not make use of his Leglimency skills. He has already violated her body, he refuses to violate her mind as well. "I agree to grant any reasonable request." He knows he owes her, and he has never been as terrified as he is right this minute. "What do you want from me? If it is within my power, you shall have it."

Nymphadora smiles at him then, a seductive smile that shocks him to his toes. He raises an eyebrow. She presses her body fully against his, and rubs his nose with hers before she kisses him softly. When she finishes, she draws back infinitesimally, looks into his eyes, and murmurs against his lips. "I want you to make love to _me_ , Severus."

It is the first time he has ever heard her say his given name. Severus responds by crushing her to him, lowering his head and plundering her mouth with his. She surprises him by dropping her towel and jumping into his arms. He catches her under her thighs as she wraps her legs around him. His own towel falls as he carries her to the bed and tosses her into it before he crawls into it himself. He covers her body with his and kisses her again, more softly, but with no less heat than before. He rains kisses on her face, her neck, her shoulders. He makes his way downward until he reaches her breasts. He teases first one, then the other. Kissing, sucking, nipping, pinching. She arches her back and a moan of pleasure is torn from her. Severus smiles and continues to worship her breasts until she is gasping. His cock is aching, but this is for her and about her and he has the discipline to give her pleasure and wait for his own. 

Her hips buck and a small smile escapes as he answers her unspoken plea and, with a final pinch, he leaves her breasts and resumes his journey down her body. He kisses every part of her as he goes. He is memorizing her body, the softness of her skin, the mole just above her navel, the sudden shock of her pink pubic hair. She spreads her legs wide to entice him, but Severus avoids her pussy for now. He continues kissing and sucking his way along her right hip, thigh, knee, leg, ankle, and foot. He kisses and sucks each toe and the bottom of her foot before he moves to her left side and starts again in reverse. Toes, ankle, leg, knee, thigh. When he reaches the apex of her legs, Nymphadora is a mewling mass of quivering need.

Severus settles between her thighs and spreads her soaking pussy with his fingers. Her clit is erect and he lowers his head and teases it with his tongue. He licks, swirls, sucks, nips; bringing her to the edge again and again without tipping her over. He opens his eyes and looks at her. She is breathing hard, pinching her nipples and arching her hips. When he pauses in his ministrations, a groan of frustration is ripped from her. 

"Oh, Severus, you devil, you prick, you evil, sexy, fucking gorgeous wizard, please--don't stop. I'm so close. Please."

He smiles and moves to his knees between her legs. He hooks his elbows under her knees, lifts her legs to his shoulders, grabs her hips, and pulls her toward him. He plunges his aching cock deep into her body. It is so hot, so slick, and feels so amazing that he has to hold himself still for a moment in order to maintain control. He uses a finger to tease her clit until she reaches orgasm with a keening wail. He revels in the feel of her pussy pulsating around his cock and begins his rhythmic barrage. He draws her pleasure out as he takes his own. Soon, the sensations overwhelm his consciousness and he becomes a primal, primitive thing. His controlled thrusts metamorphose into unrestrained hammering. His orgasm surprises and overwhelms him. With one more heave, he stiffens as his cock empties inside of her. 

Severus collapses on top of her, breathing hard. Nymphadora wraps her arms and legs around him and holds him close. He can feel her heart echoing his in a staccato beat that returns to normal slowly and much too fast. He indulges himself for a few moments. He never gets any physical comfort from other human beings these days. He misses it, so it is wonderful to just remain still, connected in the most intimate way in the warmth of her embrace, and imagine how things might have been.

After a few minutes, he berates himself for being a sentimental fool. He pulls back, looks down, memorizes the way she looks right now. Her head is facing sideways, her eyes are closed and her smiling lips are swollen from his kisses. With a small sigh of regret, Severus silently summons his wand, points it at her and says, “ _Stupefy_.” Her limbs fall away from him and he rises. 

Severus takes another moment to fix the scene in his memory.

He waves his wand. " _Scourify._ " 

Another wave and her clothes reappear on her body. 

Severus performs the cleansing charm on himself and dresses quickly. He removes the _Inhibitum Vincului_ collar and tosses it on the bedside table before he picks up the unconscious woman, carries her down the stairs and sets her down on the sofa in the sitting room. He retrieves her wand from the safe. He slides it into her back pocket, then he lifts her up and holds her for a long moment. Cursing himself once again for lapsing into sentimentality, he inhales her sweet scent before he carries her outside his house's wards and Disapparates.

They appear outside of her apartment building. Snape steadies Nymphadora with one hand, puts the other over her mouth, and then murmurs “ _Ennervate_.” 

Her eyes open, and she gazes into his. He points his wand at her and removes his hand from her mouth. She looks around, recognizes where they are and whispers, "So, this is it?" 

Snape nods. “It is better this way, Nymphadora,” he says. “You chose Lupin. It's too late for anything else now. Because of certain _circumstances_ , of which we are both aware, it is too dangerous for me to cultivate close personal relationships. If either Dumbledore or the Dark Lord ever discovered...well, you know what would happen." He can't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"What if it matters to me?"

"It won't in a moment." He raises a hand and wipes a tear from her cheek. "None of that, Nymphadora. Good girl. _Obliviate_.” 

As Nymphadora’s eyes lose focus, Snape Apparates to half a block away and walks toward her. He sees her shake her head and look around blearily. She notices him walking toward her and grins.

“Hi there, Snape—used any Unforgivables lately?” 

He stops in front of her and smirks, “I have been sorely tempted during the last couple of days.” 

“Snape, was that a joke?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and scowls. “It’s good to see that your powers of observation are as accurate as ever.”

Nymphadora cocks her head and her expression becomes thoughtful. “What do you say, Snape—how about keeping me company on my last night in England for the foreseeable future?”

Snape raises an eyebrow, considering. “Very well, Nymphadora—on one condition.”

She rolls her eyes. “What is it…?”

“That you call me ‘Severus’.”

"It's deal--on one condition. You have to call me 'Tonks'."

Snape grimaces. "Isn't there a middle ground?"

She rolls her eyes. "Fine. Does 'Dora' meet with your approval?"

"It does."

"Was that a smile? It was! No, you can't take it back now."

Severus glowers at her. "Come, _Dora_ , I'm hungry and the chippy is still open."

"I can't believe you actually smiled. I wonder if Hell has frozen over?"

"Those Unforgivables you mentioned? I will use one on you right now if you don't stop talking."

Dora sticks her tongue out at him and as she skips ahead of him, her hair color is changing from pink to purple to blue. Snape watches her wistfully for a moment before he heaves a sigh, arranges his expression into one of his patented scowls and follows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_*Shakespeare’s Sonnet number 119._


End file.
